


Physician to the Crown

by SketchLockwood



Category: The Hollow Crown: The Wars of the Roses (2016), The Sunne in Splendour - Sharon Kay Penman, The White Queen (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 21:52:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7378678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SketchLockwood/pseuds/SketchLockwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dominic de Serego was a physician in the 15th Century. Assumed to be of Italian origin. This is a story about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**May 1461**

**London, England.**

 

He had all but forgotten the world outside these walls. Not the walls of this prison, but the four walls of this single cell. He had lost touch of the reality which lay beyond the sounds of shouts, of screams, of cries and wails, and he could scarcely recall anything but this everlasting damp. His head hurt as much as the wrists which heavy irons clung to. Cuffs which made sure that all knew, he was here as a prisoner. Here for the crimes of which he had been accused. Falsely accused if he could say so himself. Dominic de Serego knew himself that he was guilty of nothing more than loyalty; loyalty to the wrong side.

 

A mistake he had learnt which could prove fatal.

 

That was why he now sat here, miserably in this cursed place. With nothing more to do than think, think of the life he had once had. Think of what it had been. Think of things which he would never, so long as he lived, forget. Not all were bad, for he remembered his life in Italy, he remembered everything it had been. He remembered the relative grandeur of his fortunate position, and each day, he prayed in thanks to The Lord that he had been delivered such privilege, whilst so many did suffer so miserably.

 

Then however he had come to England. Then he had arrived in this forsaken country, where he had hoped to thrive, to prosper. Yet he had not. He had instead found himself arrested on charges he had all but forgotten in the weeks he had been resident in this prison. That however was when he heard the door open, looking up. He had known well enough the routine of this place, had learnt to count the hours, the minutes, the seconds expertly. Had not expected the guards to enter, not at this moment.  
  
The guards however it was not. He recognised the Sheriff's uniform. Rose without hesitation to his feet. His visitor said not a word as he cleared the space between them, freeing him of his chains for only a minute. “Hands in front, arms straight.” He did not falter, did not wince as his chains were replaced with new ones. He did not say a word as he was taken from this cell, through the corridors which he had walked upon his arrival and finally, into the London air. A scent so foul, yet one for which he had never been grateful.

 

He did not care for the shouts, the stares, the pelting he got as he looked out onto this, England's capital city. He did in fact think he may have been the only man robbed of his liberation to appreciate the splendour of London. Yet his curiosity was short lived. Ended suddenly as the carriage stopped before the hall which would become his trial. “Come.”

 

He did not pause. Instead he followed into the hall, stood where he was instructed. “Dominic de Segero.” The Sheriff paused, looking at his notes so long de Serego thought he could scream. If it had not been for the need to recognise authority, indeed he may have. May have screamed for the situation, may have screamed at this man for how long it took to read. “You have been accused of several charges. Trespass, threatening behaviour and.” The Sheriff paused, squinting as he looked once again, his voice was quiet and grave when he next spoke. “And treason.”

 

Dominic's mouth fell open, snapped closed. He inhaled softly, ready to plead his innocence when he was interrupted by a voice he recognised only faintly.  
  
“I protest.” his defender spoke as he walked into the room. Dominic's eyes widened as he recognised the man's soft features. “John Dynham, Sheriff.”

 

“Dynham?”  
  
“I am a most trusted friend of the King.”  
  
“King Edward?” Dynham nodded. “Very well, speak in this man's defence.”

 

“I have known this man for some time.” de Serego said nothing, looking on in silent scepticism. As far he recalled, they had met not more than a year since, in the company of a noble family. A noble family who had found themselves at the wrong side of the new king, the then earl of March. “He is a physician of excellent quality-”  
  
“An attribute that does not act as defence-”

 

“Let me finish Sir.” Dynham snapped. “List the claims, and I will defend him.”

 

“He is accused of trespass, on three accounts.” The sheriff went on, looking again at his papers so long that once again, the physician thought he would scream. “By Richard Wellys, Peter Godard and Elizabeth Sylet.”  
  
“Trespass? Of all the charges you choose trespass? This man is a physician, can you say beyond all doubt that he was not invited into these people's houses? That he was not falsely accused because they themselves could not pay the fees?” The sheriff said nothing. “Next charge, threatening behaviour was it?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“From the same people I would assume? Well I need not say more than look to the same reasons. Treason? I do not need to ask. Master Dominic, he was employed by Anthony Woodville, once. He was found by myself with the Woodville retinue, when King Edward was in Calais with my Lord Warwick. Can we accuse all employees of all Lancastrian sympathesizers of treason, for we would hang half of England.” Dynham snapped. “Now if you have nothing more to say, then I would take my leave, and this man will be free-”  
  
“Free to leave but not of the charges raised against him. I shall have to feedback to the King when he returns to London-”  
  
“So shall I.” Dynham mumbled. “So shall I.”

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**1465.**

 

**Windsor Castle.**

 

Dominic had never seen a room so grand. He stood in the Great Hall of Windsor Castle, his eyes taking in everything from the lofted roof, to the stained glass windows as tall as some of the London houses. The physician recalled the shock of the letter, the summons that ordered he should come with haste to the palace.

 

“Master de Serego.” He startled at the voice, bowing as he turned, seeing he who had spoken. “Do you know why you were summoned here?”

 

“No Your Grace.” The Italian spoke, trying to keep the nerves from his voice. Nerves which were not dispersed as the bearded man smiled.

 

“My name is William Hastings, you will hence forth refer to me as 'my lord'.” He corrected. “You were brought here on a recommendation. A recommendation from John Dynham. I assume you know him?”   
  
Dominic did not respond. His mind wandered, recalling the years before.

 

***  
  


**June 1461  
London**

 

_The knock on his door was loud, persistent, de Serego rose to his feet, making his way toward the door. All he could do was curse. Curse at the cold house, curse at the predicament in which he had found himself. Curse at the fact that he was so penniless that he could not afford a maid. He could not afford the luxuries which were so commonly associated with men of his rank. He cursed that he had ever come to England. For Italy, the Italy he missed, offered warmth and wages for his work. “Dom.” That was all he heard as he opened the door, he did not utter a word as the man walked passed him and into the house._

 

 _He slammed the door shut, following his visitor into the house. “Master Dynham-”_  
  
“Call me John.” 

 

“ _John forgive me I was quite unprepared, I would have had a fire lit or refreshments-”_  
  
“Needlessly.” Dynham offered a grin. A grin the Italian did not understand. “You remember your time in jail?”  
  
“I would not forget that place.” 

 

“ _Well Dom, I have obtained you a pardon.”_  
  
“Why? Why would you do this for me?”  
  
Dynham shrugged. “I saw something in you when we met in Sandwich. One day, I may call upon you, and one day you must come. 

 

***  
  


“Of course my lord Hastings.” There was a moments awkward silence. “For what did Master Dynham recommend me?”  
  
“You may ask him yourself.”

 

“The King has married.” Dynham's voice filled the hall. Filled the hall as he stepped into it's centre. “As I am sure you will have heard. As such, special interest has been registered in you.”

 

“Special... Interest?”

 

“God damn it man.” Dynham sounded irritated. “Have you been living in a cave?” The physician startled, jumped even as Dynhams foot slammed down on the hollow wood of the dais as he approached. “The queen is a woman of which you know. I believe in fact you are well acquinted. At least acquinted enough that she has thought to ask for you specifically. His Grace would have called it special treatment. In fact.” Dynham emphasised those words, though his expression was one of no interest. “King Edward if I recall was not happy, for he does not forget a name. Nor does he forget a thing done. He had not heard of you in your professional capacity, except he remembered that he had granted you pardon on my say so several years ago.” Hastings snorted, suddenly glaring. “So as you can imagine he was sceptical when he saw your name on her requests. Yet you should thank me. Thank me because I convinced him that you were the most appropriate for the job.”   
  
“Why?” Dominic murmured, already finding himself unable to speak. Unable more so as Dynham stopped, suddenly unmoving. He shook his head, chuckling whilst the physicians hands shook.

 

“I thought you were intelligent. A man of the learned kind.” Hastings too laughed as Dynham looked at him. Suddenly there was a seriousness tangible within the room. “Because we need someone who is on the inside. The Queen will have her own physician, that is the will of his grace, and her grace. The Queen has requested you, it is simply luck that I know of you. It really could not be more fortunate. You will know of the scandal surrounding his graces marriage?” When the physician said nothing, it was Hastings who spoke.

 

“Damn it man, have you been returned to Florence of late?”  
  
“I prefer to keep a private life my lord, one in which I do not hear too much of the affairs of the court. Unlike you, I have never been exposed to it.”

 

Hastings nodded, seemingly accepting. “The King has caused himself a scandal. One which we must accept. Yet it is in all our interests that someone we can trust be her graces own physician.”  
  
“That is where you come in.” Dynham interjected. “I said that some day you would owe me something. This is it.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

February 1466  
The Palace of Westminster.  
Queen Elizabeth was with child.  
So heavily was that so that she was to be monitored, was in confinement from the world save the few with dispensation. Dispensation which Dominic had been all but pleased to be granted, he had been ready in attendance for the birth of the first royal child. Ready, and then it had not come. Ready and then the queen, the expectant mother had grown more uncomfortable. All had been anxious, but none so much as Elizabeth herself. Now plump in breast and swollen in n it just her belly, but every joint below the hip, ready she was for it, in all except her mood.   
When Dominic had entered her apartments earlier that morning, he had been exposed to her temper. One which, though he had hoped would diminish, had simply grown through the day. The tantrums had been many, and varied. So strong had they been that they had attracted attention, attention from a man which the physician wanted in this room little more than he wished to contract the plague.   
King Edward had ever been a well tempered man, that had been the Italians first observation. Sometimes too liberal, rarely did he shout, often he was quiet in observation, like a silent hawk who passed judgement; like a wise old owl neither old nor wise nor qualified to be stood there. Not qualified except he was this woman's husband. Now was one such quiet moment, stood in the door way, his great frame propped against the wooden arch, a smirk stuck on his annoyingly handsome face. A smirk that had this man not been king, the physician may have pushed clean from it.   
In the ten minutes that the king had been present, he had not said a word. Had in fact twice spluttered with laughter. Much as he did now as the queen once again objected. Objected to the girl currently taking pains to redress the queens hair for the fourth time this day. "I do not like it! No Mary!" She kicked the table in anger, her eyes blazing as she looked at her husband. "As for you." her words were directed at the physician, though meant for her husband. "I cannot bare your presence."

"Your Grace. I can try and alleviate your discomfort-"

"You are a man." She snapped. "What would you know of this discomfort?"

"He is a medical man my love." King Edward spoke for the first time since appearing. "He knows of what he talks."

"He is a man. Medical or not. A man is a man." She snapped. "Men know only of how to stuff the babe in. I doubt you have much thought of getting it out have you Edward Plantagenet?"

He shrugged, nonplussed. Dominic fought not to shake his head, not to let out an exasperated sigh. He would not make that mistake again, he would not forget where he was. For he remembered his first week at court, when he had sighed in the Kings presence, only to find himself at the receiving end of one of Lord Hastings few outbursts. The collected man he had then learnt could inflict damage. A damage invisible until provoked.

The physician was brought back to the room as the queen continued, getting to her feet with a struggle. "God damn you! You don't think of any of it do you."

"Your Grace-" the physician interjected.

"Shut up!" Elizabeth screeched.

"Beth, please. Let him help you-"

"How will he help Edward? How do you propose he help?"

"Sometimes." The king said jokingly. "I think the devil gets into you-"

"You are not helping." The physician murmured in the Kings direction. "Madam, please, return to your bed-"

"Pah she spends all day in that bed."

"I live in this bed." She snapped.

"And I am alone." King Edward said, stepping into the room. "When will she be free of this child? I wish her to return to my bed-"

"This is not some ailment." The physician snapped, causing silence. "She must rest now, and after, and only god knows when that will be. She is not like a dog you can think of breeding whilst still with a belly full of pups. Now you are to leave. You are not helping."

King Edward sighed, the smile gone from his face. "And if I refuse?"

"Your authority matters little in this room." The physician retorted. Occupying himself by toying with instruments, anything to distract from his shaking hands. "My patient, not you is my priority. As I believe I may know more about my patients health and well being, then your authority is nominal. Now you must leave else I shall have you removed." After that, the physician approached the Queen, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Madam, I can get you wine and we can try to take your discomfort-"

"My feet hurt Dominic. They hurt. I cannot move without this brat causing me pain. I cannot sleep, and I cannot stand his presence." She snapped finally, looking at her husband. The physician spun, looking at the king, about to speak as the familiar voice broke through the room.

"Your Grace." William Hobbes stepped into the chamber, bowing deeply. "What brings you here?"

"I wished to enquire about my wife's health."

"He wished to get in the way." Elizabeth barked.

Hobbes smiled at her, resting a hand on his masters arm. "Come. You see she is well. Leave my colleague to his work. He is competent I assure you-"

"He is impertinent."

"And I shall ensure that issue is addressed with him, but not at this moment. Not whilst-" Hobbes did not have chance to finish his words as a shriek filled the chamber.

"Leave!" The Italian shouted, this time with urgency.


	4. Chapter 4

The queen had delivered safely of a baby girl. Despite his pleasure that the babe and mother were both in health, Dominic could not he'll but feel irked. Irked because within minutes the queens foul mood had changed, her anger at hee husband dispelled and he had been forgiven all his sins. Forgiven whilst Dominic had received little in the way of thanks. Of course he had not so much as expected a polite word to come form the mouth of the woman called Queen Elizabeth. He had not expected even a passing glance, a cold regard from King Edward, the king they called a man of the people. The king who reputation supposed regarding every man he passed, and cared enough to remember their name. Dominic thought himself a forgiving, tolerant man, whilst he recalled he owed king Edward much, for the man had granted his pardon those years ago, though the physician could not easily stomach it as he was escorted through the palace halls toward the office of Dr Hobbes.

  
Indeed he was quite relieved as their progress halted just south of that confined space. Halted by the man de Serego knew he should take pains to avoid. The man he had been informed his mistress could not stand. The man with whom to be seen corousing could.cost a greater man his reputation. It was Hobbes who replied as the Earl of Warwick spoke, putting out an arm to still the senior physician. "You." Warwick did not speak to Hobbes. "Are the queens physician. That you are walking around at Will at such a time informs me the child is born." The Italian nodded. "The child's sex-"

  
"The king shall confirm that himself I am sure, when he is ready my Lord. It is not my business, or that of my learned colleague, to inform you or any other man of this. It is for king Edward, and I am sure my Lord that should my master see it suitable, you will be the first to know." Hobbes said so matter of fact that even the Earl did not have words to retort. "Now if you do not mind, we must be about our business now." Warwick did not have chance to so much as nod approval before they were away under Hobbes' direction. They turned several corners, climbed damp and twisted stairs before de Serego saw the door to the physicians chamber. It was not until they were inside that Hobbes spoke, his voice hoarse as he began to clear up scattered papers from his crowded desk. "You are not to answer that man's questions." This time his tone was dry. He spoke with the authority of a master, not with his master's authority. "The Earl of Warwick may not have seen it yet, but he is falling from favour."

  
"The king trusts you so much as to tell you?" Dominic could not hold the surprise from his tone, though he had tried. He had not expected Hobbes to laugh, he did not often hear it. He remembered too many times where this man had instructed him that in this, their profession, they could not let emotion show.

  
"Good Lord, no. Do you think he regards me as more than a servant, albeit a trusted one?"

  
"Mayhap, he has appointed you as senior physician when you are-" the Italian cut off his own words a little too late. With that and the look upon Hobbes face, he wished he had too cut out his own tongue.

  
"Only a surgeon." Hobbes spat. "Do you think I have not heard that before, too many times to recall? I may have started as a surgeon, but like you I qualified in medicine. Not at your foreign colleges but at Oxford then at Cambridge." His tone had become calm, once again matter of fact, and in his next words were pride. "Indeed the king has made me senior physician to his body because I am a surgeon, because he values such and because I, unlike you, was trusted by his father, appointed by his father,and served his Grace the king when he was a boy at Ludlow." Papers in hand, Hobbes walked to the draws sat in the rooms corner, placing them on top he sighed. "No, I know of my Lord Warwicks backseat in the chamber of popularity not because I am the kings most trusted ally or even a confidont, but because I am an intelligent man, nor am I blind. You would have to be not to notice the rift coming between them. The Earl was one Edward's closest friend, and as a boy, the king adored him. An adoration I saw in his eyes not even for his father, but it was there and it was visible. Now things have changed so much that Queen Elizabeth has the King' s love and Lord Hastings is so brash that he does not feel queasy about flaunting that it is he who has the Kings favour."

  
"So it would be dangerous to tell my Lord Warwick anything?"

  
Hobbes nodded. "Course you must tell no one except the Lord Chamberlain and the King himself of the work we do. I rather meant it would be foolish to speak with the Earl at all. No profit will come of it." He stopped then, opening the large cupboard inches away from Dominic s head. "Ale?" The Englishman put two glass beakers on the table, he laughed as the Italian nodded nervously. "I assume you will not be accustomed to drinking from glass?"

  
"No." The Italian murmured.

  
"When I said no profit comes from Lord Warwick, I did not mean one cannot be found. These were a gift from him for my exemplary services at Towton. Course, king Edward presented me with them, it is not secret that my lord Warwick paid."

  
"Not secret because king Edward told you?"

  
"Not secret because his Grace has means inside which he must live, and my Lord Warwick does not have quibbles with displaying his great wealth. He did not hesitate to tell me so in his attempt to steal my loyalty and service. Though I am not easily bought. Nor must you be." Hobbes handed the ale glass to his guest, watching as the younger man sipped though it might be poisoned. "The ale was a gift from Lord Hastings, I would not worry it is not cheap, nor stale, nor poisoned."

  
"I assume you did not bring me here to pour ale down my throat and talk?"

  
"No. His Grace is not happy with how you spoke to him."

  
"My patient must come first." Dominic shrugged. "If his Grace does not like that, then I would not much like to be married to him, so-"

  
"You are not married to him, but you are ruled by him."

  
"I am ruled by the queen also. The queen whom, if King Edward wishes a line of succession, must be alive and not barren. Would you have had me allow risk to be posed to the queen or princess? Simply to please the ego of our King?"

  
Hobbes almost choked, his laugh caught in his throat. "You are bold."

  
"I am honest. I also consider my patients "

  
"Might I then also request you consider the kings patience?" Dominic had been about to shrug, stopped from doing so by a hammering on the door. "Enter." The boy dressed in Hastings livery said nothing, handing the paper to Hobbes. Paper Hobbes now glanced over. "You have it seems impressed her Grace. Enough she has opened her husband's purse strings." The older man handed over the parchment as he dismissed the boy, waiting till the door had closed. "Lord Hastings has approved the Queens request that you might receive an annual salary of £40."


	6. Chapter 6

"We are expected to be many things Dom." William Hobbes' voice filled his mind as the Italian lay upon his bed, alone and shirtless, this damned summer too hot for all. "Least among them is medical men, chief among them, we are diplomats." The Italian had laughed at first, silenced as the old man continued undeterred. "The highest in the land quite unwittingly tell us that they would not tell their closest friends. Sometimes Dom, they do without intent trust us with that which they would not even entrust to themselves. We must listen carefully and do nothing. That is, we must do nothing until the time dictates we act."  
  
His words had come as fair warning. Information Dominic had tucked away, filed in the furthest corner of his brain for reference should he need it, and yet he had not thought he may need to act upon it. Had never thought that it would be he who would be brought into the middle of this great wave of political bullshit which had seen his mistress distressed. Distressed enough Dom recalled to displease her husband, displease him so greatly he had raged as Dom had arrived with the news of the queens complete breech of etiquette.  
  
The Italian remembered it clearly as he had rode into the camp, on the open road in Warwickshire. He remembered how the king had raged. "She sent you? Christ does the woman know what she is doing? Or is she devoid of all senses?" He had screamed, stopped from throwing things more than cups and pots as William Hastings hurried to remove blades.  
  
“I think.” Lord Hastings had begun to muse. “Perhaps her grace did send doctor de Serego because she worried that you yourself may need a physician my lord-”  
  
“And she could not send Hobbes?”  
  
“No. Because he is too recogniseable-”  
  
“And?” King Edward snapped.  
  
“And he is a surgeon Edward.” Hastings was as calm as he could manage to make himself. “If you take a surgeon into Warwick's household with you, he may think you believe yourself in danger of harm by his hand, not merely taking care to not become ill.” King Edward had seemed satisfied with that as he continued.   
  
"My god I would wish she was here." The king had finally muttered. "Instead she sends you as a cold reminder."  
  
"For that I can only apologise your grace."  
  
"Apologise? Yes. Yes I suppose you would. Forgive me, my nerves are on edge." Edward had admitted, as though none were present. Only now as Dominic de Serego lay sprawled, as he had ever been taught he must not, in the lavish chamber at Middleham castle, the Earl of Warwick's northern stronghold, did any of this make sense. His role had changed, changed from queens physician to one less noted, yet more important. He had been the man so unexpectedly sent to attend the King in the absence of more notable men.  
  
His attention had been drawn away thoroughly from the book he had been attempting to read in this furness of a summer, he slammed it closed as the knock came upon his door. The boy who entered wore Lord Warwick's livery. "Doctor... Your presence is requested by my lord."  
  
***  
  
He could have cursed them both. He could have screamed. Dom stood silent for a moment, looking at the men. He had dressed rapidly, running each step down to the solar and there, sat well and cheerful were Warwick and the king. "Dom! There you are man." Edward grinned as he spoke. "I have called for you to settle a dispute."  
  
"A dispute?" The Italian had raised an eyebrow then, looking to the earl of Warwick as he listened to the servant who had fetched him.  
  
"Your dispute can wait Ned, I'd have you hear this-"  
  
"You'd have me die from boredom if you had your way. Damn it Warwick this had better be good."  
  
"Maybe your doctor would like to explain why he was slouching in his chambers when my servant fetched him?”  
  
“Were you?” King Edward sounded bored, he did not give the Italian chance to speak. “My Lord Warwick, how glad I am you brought this to my attention when doctor de Serego was clearly so busy at work that it is quite the crime that he was dressed so informally. In all of this situation, I do think it is that which I will not forget.”   
  
Dom smirked, stifling a laugh as Warwick glared at him. The Italian smiled as his own master winked at him.

 

“Your Grace if you do not mind.” The Italian spoke. “Might I ask what it is which you wished I resolve for you? I must return to my books-”  
  
“You physicians and your books, are you all such boring souls?” Edward muttered.  
  
“The dispute Edward.” Warwick barked.   
  
“Yes, yes. My apologies, I will not waste more of your time. You will know I am a man that likes to hunt? Well Dick would have me think that a levrier is the better dog for the hunt.” Edward waved a hand and went on. “I believe it is a spaniel. In your expert opinion, which would you favour?”  
  
“I am no expert in hunting your grace.” The Italian mumbled. “But if I were to choose a dog? I might well choose a mongral. A mongral is less prone to disease or weakness as a pure breed.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

London, November 1470

"Sir." Dominic wanted to shout, to strike the woman around the face, but he did not. Instead he moved his head on the pillow, feigning sleep in hope she may desist. "Doctor." She said, shaking his arm until he surrendered to the truth that sleep would evade him this night as it had the last few nights. He sat finally, wiping his eyes before he reached the flagon on the floor beside his little bed, drinking the wine in huge gulps. 

"What is it Anna?" He murmured, half drunk. His head spun. 

"A summons." She offered. "I have your cloak." 

"A summons, at this hour?" The Italian had been about to swing his feet back under the covers. To tell her to offer a message that he would not, could not come. 

"A medical emergency."She offered. "One which requires your attention." 

"If it is Samuel Coopers wife, then you can tell him it will not happen. He did not pay last time, and did not have the means to I am sure."

"It is not-"

"Or Paul Pratchett, or John Carter, or Michael Green." 

"Forgive me doctor, but maybe I have mistaken this, you cannot choose who you treat. You have a duty-"

"I can choose if they do not have the means to pay for the treatment, much less my wages. I have to eat, and I assume you wish to also?" 

He thought she would fall silent at that, would let him return to his efforts to sleep off this drunkenness. Was sure she had when he heard her close the door. That was until minutes later it opened. "Dominic I believe." The physician had frozen, recognising the voice before he had seen the man. Then he had hurried to sit, hurried to stand, not caring for the lack of clothing. "I assume your maid is mistaken, and you did not refuse to rouse yourself at such an hour because your patient could not afford a penny?" 

"Yes my lord. She was not mistaken, but I did not know. Of course, I would not have thought to presume you had no money to pay for treatment." 

"I did not think you would." Lord Warwick offered with an almost crooked smile. "You will need to dress, and is that wine I smell? You are not drunk are you?" 

"No my lord." In truth, Dom did not think he was. Not until the cold air hit him as he left the small house. Not until it sobered him too quickly. "Where are we going?" The physician asked, jogging to keep up with Lord Warwick's strides. 

Dom knew his cheeks would be coloured, embarrassment showing. Though an imposing man, the earl was no giant. Yet his strides were those to match the Kings. Dom, a short man, knew it hopeless to try, making the earl slow to his own pace with exasperation as he stopped his jog. 

"Westminster." Warwick snapped. "Now hurry." 

"Your wife is ill my Lord? Your daughters?"

"No." Warwick growled, grabbing the mans arm. Pulling him toward the Abbey in a sudden turn. "You'll go from here alone. Through the gates." 

Dominic walked in silence, greeted by an old man who soon led him through to the sanctuary. The sanctuary which for a moment was eerily quiet until a girls screams filled the hall. "Bess!" He recognised his mistresses voice, recognised it even in the darkness. "Silence your shrieks."

He hurried forward, fumbling with the keys the abbot had given him. He slammed the door behind him, locking it closed as he approached. "Your grace?" He said finally, gaining her attention. 

"Doctor?" She whispered in disbelief before she beckoned him over. "Come, quickly." He hurried as she pointed to the cradle, rocking it gently. 

"What is the problem-" his words stopped as he heard the feint crackle of breaths. He crossed himself, thanking Mary they were in a church, in a church and under God's watchful eye, this baby held in his hand. "Let me hold her-"

"Him." She corrected, lifting the infant from his cradle before Dom took him in his arms, listening through the girls shrieks. 

"Princess." He gripped the girls arm as she began to pace. "Hush." It was several moments then before anyone spoke. 

"What can you do?" Elizabeth whispered. 

"There is not much. Pray, that is one thing. I will try." He placed the baby in the cradle, did not falter to run for his bags, laying them on the table, hoping his hands would not slip. Hoping he would not be so anxious for this child that he might kill not remedy. 

"What are you making?" Princess Elizabeth spoke quietly, her hands on the table, she was on her toes to watch him. 

"I'm mixing a remedy for your brother."

"It looks foul! What is that stuff?" 

"Barley water, sugar and eggs." He pointed to the mixture. "And juice of horehound, now give me space." He snapped, perhaps unduly, his hands shaking as he moved back, marrying the sweet mixture to the child before putting tiny flecks on the infants lips. 

***

He had been allowed to sleep. The queen, as he still called her, had offered him her bed. Stating what he had already knowing she would not sleep. Could not sleep. She had not let him leave, would not she said until the child was strong again. Dominic had not had the heart to tell her what it was she did not wish to hear. The child would most likely die. 

Still he had expected it as Elizabeth shook him, waking him from restless sleep. "He is worse." She said in panic. He had not needed more words, had heard the wheezes. He rose himself again, taking to the table once more without a word. Seeing the princess beside him again, he did not let her speak. "Liquorice, sage, willow, roses, fennel, cinnamon, ginger, cloves, mandrake, black, white and red pepper, dragons blood-"

"Papa says dragons are not real." 

"Perhaps they are not." He beat frantically. "It's called St Pauls potion, and your brother needs all the help he can get." He patted the girls head as he once more ran to the cradle. "Your grace must make him drink." He handed the bowl to her, stepping back watching silently anxious as the queen made the prince drink all. "Now we wait?" She asked, sighing as he nodded. 

Now we wait he thought.


End file.
